tacetnix

[tacetnix]

>// The urge to do another Elden Ring Co-Op run... Ugghghhghghgh...

[tacetnix]

[tacetnix]

Beth B., 2024

I always thought these wire clusters looked like hair or maybe blood vessels.

[tacetnix]

[ cw food

i have been instructed to provide a method by which i can avoid eating 1 meal today

this link is that method

note that i need to make $100 or so to get out of the hole (told you this month was godawful) and then try to get enough for groceries this week, which is another $100.

any help would be appreciated.

when i am done being panicky and furious and sad i will be appropriately ashamed for having to ask for support again.

thank you. ]

[tacetnix]

sometimes i say “i think” but actually i know. on account of being the knower.

[tacetnix]

The artificial infantry have become eccentric with age, it seems. Some of the support walkers appear to take great joy in wielding arms with their forward manipulators — much like their human peers — and refuse modification, despite mounted guns being much more effective weapons…

[tacetnix]

---- Eyes are slightly widened, beneath the scholar's bangs. Used to fighting in the dark and cramped spaces where the gods were laid to rest, one could not intentionally worsen their already denied eyesight. But here upon the streets, with the cobbles beneath their feet and the distant torches lighting the way through Yharnam, Mary kept her eyes wide not to fight, but to take in. To consume the visions of what laid before her, blinking as little as possible as to not deny herself even a mote of comparative data.

And so Mary found herself satisfied. A hypothesis put to proof, confirmed by her closest comrade of the crypts.

And when Heysel began to speak of her in turn, only then did Mary's eyes drift and linger elsewhere. A small quirk, not looking into one's eyes whilst thinking. It was difficult not to focus on learning and remembering if she was watching someone or something. So an unobtrusive wall was good enough. Two-thirds to her left, Heysel's face was still in view. She would not miss a notable shift or change. That was important. Not to turn her back. That would be rude.

---- And from there, she could consider. She would sip upon brewed leaves to ease the strain of her throat. It was not a sniffly day, thankfully. "...Space in my life for gallantry..." The words are spoken with the same simple innocence as though she'd never considered the prospect. "...I would be remiss to say that I am satiated. That 'you already fill that space with your shape and your self.' I know that I am different; I am wrong. I am other. I have lived my life knowing that. A life of being taught that my wants cannot be wanted, because they rely wholly upon people whom I cannot know and cannot expect with certainty. You too, will disappear with the night's turn, and reappear... when I am blessed enough to see you once again." To read between the lines -- how many years would it take for someone to speak with her to recognize that for as blunt as the Tomb Prospector was; as sharp with her wit and her acuity as she readily proved, that she did not for once even know what she wanted?

It was not that she blamed Heysel for leaving, for having her own time -- she did not blame anyone she came to enjoy the company of. But between the lines, she wanted to have them with her forevermore.

And what use were other wants, of things like romance or gallantry or love, if they could not be indulged in? If there was not the time given to her to indulge in them?

Heysel, perhaps with these next words, may put those pieces together. "I could not achieve what I wanted; the community I found was sacrificed, I have made friends who die beyond my knowledge or certainty, and so what is left..? I can only look inward. I must be able to satiate my own desires, no? Is that... not... what everyone is doing? Surviving, making peace with what has been given, scraping everything else from that, until all that is left is yourself..?"

Suddenly, her red eyes flick back, narrowed, searching. Not, for understanding... But as though she were a student uncertain, gauging a trusted tutor's reaction to see if she had found the correct answer to a question.

"...patting your head, giving you downward-aimed praise... it inspires a spite. To thrash and to proclaim yourself as something unknown. The idea that someone knows you so intimately... I feel it squirms beneath my skin in distaste."

"I feel the way to make you smile is with three simple words: I want you. All else comes from that. An admission. An offering. To lay it upon your altar and to expect nothing in turn. To be pleasantly surprised if anything is different."

Politeness would beg for her to offer the cigarette between her lips to the cobblestone beneath, the heel of her boot stamping its little life out for good, but Heysel can’t quite make herself do so- she likes to smoke when contemplating, and now, quiet after hearing such words slipping into her ears, she is pensive, thoughts curling against her palate like smoke. She parts her lips, exhales. In the languid blur of grey, the night-salted dark of her eyes, still as stars.

It's not long before the grey melts, recedes, leaves her alone with Mary.

“...That would,” she allows, “make me smile.” Isn’t she doing exactly so now? Just a small tug of it, across her lips, a vulpine little thing constrained at the limbs. “Bashfully, at that. I’m more delicate than I seem. Certain sentences make me turn my head away, only just so. But they delight me.”

And there’s the temptation- a lean claw of it, sinking in the skin of her throat- to turn her head away from the sight of her indeed. Politely, the way she couldn’t be with her vice. Politely, because at the mercy of her hollyhock stare there shouldn’t be, the gentleman of her protests, the shape of her wants. All know the hunt licks craving along the spine of those who worship it. Her tastes are neither uncommon or peculiar. Power and how it frictions warmth between people is the oldest wish of the flesh, the easiest of wicks to light. Heysel was reborn powerless to this city; it is perfectly logical, in a fashion that doesn’t lend itself well to the illogical flesh, that she’d be the sort to say on your hands and knees, to say behave and you’ll find reward. To suggest something, and give nothing. To feel that stroke of hunger razor down her belly whenever another offers theirs and all their weakness to her grip. It’s common, and it’s simple, and dear Mary, spear-minded, always propelled ahead, of course could deduce and see and know that of her. And yet. And yet. Are friends meant to be aware so of each other? Is she blushing, a little? 

She taps the cigarette, minding that the ash doesn’t land on any of them. Beware the narrowing of her night-salted eyes.

“You know. I realize I lack that knowledge of you, my friend. I do try to be- hm. Gallant. But. Is there space in your life for that?” A vague gesture of her empty hand. A vulpine smile, this time unbound. “Have you wants?”

[tacetnix]

♡

Send ♡ for a Pointless Mun Fact!

♡ - I am of Irish, Polish, & German descent! I loathe alcohol! It's a very funny contrast.

[tacetnix]

♡♡♡

Send ♡ for a Pointless Fact about the mun!

♡1 - I actually have a Bachelor of Science in Game Design! I actually can't help myself from designing little things in the hopes that my friends get to have fun with them!! Unironically I'm coming up with a ruleset for doing Armored Core 6 Speedrun Bingo as we speak...

♡2 - I have an absurd sweet tooth, and best bet is that it has something to do with my ADHD, since it helps me focus considerably.

♡3 - I have a habit of getting overwhelmed and sleeping on the floor / under tables / under desks. I've done it since High School, and I've consistently done it at workplaces since.

[tacetnix]

Mechanical "Open/Closed" Hanging Sign

[tacetnix]

♡♡ !

Send ♡ for a Pointless Fact about the mun!

♡1 - I am canonically 6'5.5" tall (just under 196cm). I play very short characters to escape the agonies of my legs wishing my death.

♡2 - My toes are double-jointed! If I 'clench' my toes, they bend inwards, and then eventually 'pop' back out the right way. I 'drum' them like this as a form of stimulation or if I'm bored.

[tacetnix]

it is munday! send ‘♡’ for a pointless fact about the mun.

if you can’t see the symbol, send ‘heart emoji’.

[tacetnix]

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

[tacetnix]

Elden Ring Bingo Night: [Results]

---- "NEVER doubt me. Forcing me to use a blade will not diminish the weapon that is acuity. For Caria. For Sorcery, for Home and Honor, I bring Glory to my family Name."

>// Marymun here to say this was such a blast. Thanks to my old college roommate for hosting it, and it's likely going to be a thing that our friend group does...?? whenever, moving forwards. It was a 3 hour Bingo Lockout between two teams of two. First time I've ever done it, and was happy to rep the Red Team with my buddy against his girlfriend and his childhood friend. Parrying Margit and doing Godrick hitless were absolute high points, and I'm ecstatic to figure out what'll happen next time.

I think the Elden Ring itch is creeping back... oh no~

Final Bingo card for reference:

[tacetnix]

Escalator

[tacetnix]

@yellowfingcr liked this post for Compliments & Positivity!

---- She coughs, unflatteringly. Clearing her throat for the strain that the hunter is about to put on it.

"Where do I begin with you?" She manages, putting a bit of vitriol behind it. It doesn't reach the smile she hides behind her hand. It doesn't reach the mischievous narrowing of her eyes, gleaming red over the back of her palm. "You're a beacon. A brightness and font of creativity and purpose that longs to see smiles made equal to the expressions of pain and agony you've left in your wake. Your whims can be fickle, whether you bring misery or delight, and for what it's worth you've balanced the expectations of your peers on a razor's edge. Your kin and companions closest know by now how to balance upon that precariousness, and dare I say that I loathe you for making me into an entertainment.

Or perhaps that I love that you've made me eager to play the game. Because I am. For every foul thing I could try to dredge up about you, who disappears on me and yet haunts my thoughts week in and week out, I can think of three more things to compliment. The searing of your smile, the way that you press your incisor into your lip when you have a suitably fiendish idea but do not wish to truly grin; the mind of a scholar trapped behind an upbringing that did not allow for it. So long as you are in this world, my friend... it will be all the better for it."

[tacetnix]

---- A call to action to be kinder subtly? How about this: like this post and I, Mary, will give you public kindness and compliments.